


live from studio 8G

by orphan_account



Category: Saturday Night Live, Weekend Update (SNL)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Public Sex, Sort Of, husbands being husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:53:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21825481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: sometimes you just gotta celebrate good election results and a good show in a great way.
Relationships: Seth Meyers/Stefon
Comments: 19
Kudos: 127





	live from studio 8G

**Author's Note:**

> this is just... smut. a lot of smut. i’d be sorry, but

They don’t do live shows. Seth’s already done enough of them for a lifetime. But it’s election night, and as much as he loves Jimmy, he doesn’t run the kind of show that can carry something as heavy or contentious. So when NBC says they want to do something live, something to compete with the late-night hold CBS has over it with Colbert, Seth says no. 

Three times. And then the fourth call comes down, and it’s Lorne on the line, and his refusal melts into _yes, sure, of course,_ quicker than he’d ever admit. 

It’ll be fun, he tells himself. Like old times except a little less scripted and a little less predictable and, if the election goes sour (again - _God_ \- God forbid) he’ll just have a mental breakdown on live television. No big deal.

There’s booze at 8G. And he brings some from home, just in case. Stefon’s good stuff that he keeps in the freezer and the ‘secret’ bottles he stashes in his knee-high Louboutins. If Colbert can get plastered on an election night when the votes swing the wrong way, so can Seth. 

He brings Stefon, too. It’s been a while since he’s been on television, but if things _do_ go to shit, well, Seth needs him there. So, they drop the kids off early at Andy and Joanna’s, who are staying in to nervously bite each other’s nails in the comfort of their own home, and head to work. 

All Seth’s worry and alcoholic preparations are for naught, however. To his immense relief. And also the relief of Stefon, and the studio audience, the country, the world, and just in general all future generations of people. It’ll be nice to be able to look his children in the eye again. 

Amber jokes, afterwards, and says probably their ratings will drop now. She’s not _wrong,_ but Seth knows she doesn’t give a shit if they have to close their second Grave Diggers location. There will always be jokes to tell. At least now, come the new year, it won’t feel like they’re doing it while someone swings an axe around their heads.

The show goes well - as well as he could have hoped - and as a special treat, just because they’re all feeling so good, Seth brings out their _very special city correspondent, Stefon!_

To say the audience loses their goddamn minds is an understatement. 

And Stefon _glows_ under their applause. 

Long gone are the Ed Hardy shirts of yesteryear - as if he’d be caught _dead_ in one, _now?_ In _2020?_ He’s radiant in a pair of tights, silver glittering boots that rise to the middle of his shins, a well fitted skirt that stops just at the top of his thighs, and a loose purple sweater that still manages to stretch nicely across his broad shoulders. His makeup and hair are perfect, dark eyes with sweet, kissable lips. This isn’t Weekend Update and it’s not ten years ago. This is the world of Jonathan Van Ness and Billy Porter. And it’s a world that has finally caught up with Stefon.

He blooms as sweetly as the first flower of spring and if Seth didn’t love him already, he’d fall for him instantly. Trip over his own feet just to get closer.

When it’s over - after the cameras are off, and Seth has wound things down with the audience, and everyone has gone home or off to celebrate for a few more hours - it’s just him and Stefon. The kids are safe at Andy’s until the morning, and although nothing is _right_ yet, the country is taking its first step towards fixing it, and God, Seth _loves._ Loves this moment and his job and his husband, who is sitting on the Late Night desk with his legs crossed, swinging one glittering boot in Seth’s direction. 

He’s holding the matryoshka doll of himself, running the pad of his thumb over his tiny, painted steepled hands.

“New York’s hottest nightclub is _Little-_ ,” Stefon starts, but Seth doesn’t let him finish. His blood is pumping too fast, too hot, and Stefon is on his _desk._ He’s had dreams that began like this. 

Whatever the club is, wherever it is, they can go if Stefon really wants to. Anything they got there is fine by Seth, just fine, if it’s Chunky Brewsters or subway sleeping bags or whatever, _whatever_ , it doesn’t matter. 

Seth says, “I want to fuck you on the desk.” 

Seth can see the way Stefon’s hips shift, just a little, and he squeezes his legs together. The impact of all the heat in his body pooling suddenly deep in his gut. There’s hardly a blush on his face, though, and Seth can’t wait to make a mess of his makeup. Just enough for him to look debauched. It’s such a good look on him and Stefon _knows_ it, which makes it better.

Stefon sets the doll down carefully, almost with reverence, then leans back on his hands. 

“This desk? Right here in the studio? Seth Meyers, someone could _see.”_

He doesn’t really call him _“Seth Meyers”_ anymore. Not like that. As if he’s trying to bite back _baby_ or _honey_ or sometimes, only sometimes, _sir._

Nobody will see. Nobody is around, Seth’s sure of it, but that’s not the correct response. It’s certainly not the one Stefon wants to hear. So he approaches his man slowly, using one soft hand to uncross Stefon’s legs so that he can step between them. 

“I don’t care,” he says, and flashes a TV-ready grin. “Let them watch.”

Stefon places his hand on Seth’s abdomen, just below his ribs, and unbuttons every button he finds as he moves down to his belt. He’s looking up at Seth, bright eyes so much brighter surrounded by smoke, and he touches his lip with the tip of his tongue. They’ve fucked a million times, in thousands of different ways, with props and contraptions and toppings, they’ve done _everything,_ will do _everything_ more that Seth doesn’t even know he doesn’t know about yet - but it makes him tremble every single time. He never gets used to how badly he _wants_ Stefon.

“Last time Seth Meyers locked the door.”

They’d just gotten back from their summer vacation, and Stefon had assured him _what happened there would stay there._ Seth had a girlfriend. Had an entire life that Stefon couldn’t be a part of. And it was fun, and felt new and dangerous, but the summer was over and Seth had thought, _time to get back to the real world._

But the next time Stefon was scheduled to appear on Update, the very next time he stepped into 30 Rock, everything Seth told himself had flown out the window. And from that high up it’s a long, long drop. 

He _had_ locked the door, that time. Then sank to his knees in front of Stefon and showed him enthusiastically just how much he’d missed him. And then sank down onto Stefon’s lap and showed him again. His back _had_ gone out, just a little, but he’d walked away with a brand new appreciation for how much work reverse cowgirling really was. 

It was an overall win, he thought. 

“Not this time,” Seth says, cupping Stefon’s face in his hands. “You were so good tonight. Everyone loved you. Don’t you _want_ them to know how good you are?” 

“Yes,” Stefon breathes, arching just a bit. “Yes yes yes. _Yes_ . Seth, _baby -_!”

Stefon surges forward at the same moment Seth pulls him up, wrapping his arms around Stefon’s body as he does the same around Seth’s shoulders. The slide of Stefon’s lips against his is always perfect, the slant of it, how he smiles when he opens his mouth to demand entry with his tongue. He tastes like vodka and the peppermint candies they keep in the green room and something else, bitter and sharp. 

Seth slides a hand down Stefon’s backside, then slips it under his skirt. Over the tights he places two fingers at the cleft of his ass, then slips down into the heat of him to press against his pretty little hole. His own cock throbs at the small, desperate sound Stefon makes, and the way he clings tighter to Seth’s shoulders. 

“ _Tell me_ you have lube,” Seth says and Stefon scoffs, pulls away to look him dead in the eye. 

“Did you marry an idiot? Do I look like a man who comes _unprepared_ to get dicked all the way down to Whitehall street?” 

“All the way down to Whitehall, huh?” Seth smiles, using his free hand to brush back Stefon’s hair. 

“Any further south, honey, we’d be too close to Staten Island,” Stefon says, leaning back to dig around Seth’s desk drawer. He comes away with slick. Seth didn’t even know that was there. 

He presses the bottle to Seth’s chest until he takes it, and cranes up to kiss him again. 

And Seth wants that. Wants Stefon’s mouth on his, and his hands everywhere, wants want _wants._ But when Stefon reaches for Seth’s belt and begins to release the clasp, he stops him. Uses the hand on Stefon’s face to grab a handful of his hair and yank him back. 

“Don’t,” he says, using _the voice_ Stefon loves so much. It turns him pliant and agreeable. “Lie back. Pull up the skirt.”

Stefon does as he’s told, vibrating with barely contained glee. He looks breathtaking. The tights leave nothing to the imagination, and Seth cups him lightly, rubbing his palm against the crown. He’s leaking so much the material is damp. 

“See how pretty you are?” Seth says casually, almost the same tone of voice he uses with the guests. “Why would we want _anyone_ to miss this? Should have asked the cameramen to stay.”

“They don’t like to be called that,” Stefon says breathlessly, rolling his hips slightly into Seth’s touch. “It’s not politically correct. It’s _little cam -“_

Seth grabs Stefon’s hips and turns him over without warning, effectively stopping whatever _actually_ offensive thing he was about to say. 

The thought _is_ a little hot though. The idea of people seeing them like this - not just Mulaney accidentally that one time, who instead of reeling back on horror had shouted “Ah _ha_ ! I knew it! I’ve caught you red-handed, you rascals!” with his terrifying mixture of a Scooby Doo villain and a old time-y radio announcer voice - but real people. Audience members. Viewers at home. They’d never… well, _Seth_ would never. But it’s still hot to think about. 

Stefon flips the skirt up again without being asked, and wiggles his hips. They are versatile, Stefon hadn’t been joking about that, but it’s perfectly fine to have a preference. And there’s no denying how thoroughly Stefon loves to be stuffed with dick. The way he moves, the sounds he makes, how impatient he is to he filled with it. And Seth, more than anything else in the world, loves making Stefon happy and giving him exactly what he wants, always. 

“I think about this whenever I watch your show, Seth,” he says, his fingers reaching out for the far end of the desk. “I jerked myself _raw_ when I’d see you behind the weekend update desk. Before I had you. I wanted to be -.”

“Fucked?” Seth supplies, you know, helpfully. Just as he eases the tights down around Stefon’s thighs. 

“ _Yes yes yes._ Fuck me, Seth Meyers.”

Stefon is _whining._ As gorgeous as anything. 

Seth coats two fingers with lube and holds Stefon open with his dry hand to look. At his pink cock, hanging full and leaking between his legs, bumping occasionally against the front panel of the desk as he squirms. His balls and the flushed area behind them. And then finally his pretty little hole, dusted with fine hair, tightening and relaxing rhymically as he does his best to be patient and wait. 

And he is doing so, so well.

At the first touch of Seth’s slick fingers Stefon nearly sobs. 

This is not one of those times when Seth wants to work him open slowly. He needs to be inside Stefon, _now,_ so he pushes both fingers into him, knowing he can take it easily, how much Stefon _loves_ that Seth has essentially broken him in. Gets him wet and open fast, plunging his fingers into him deeply and scissoring them apart, keeps going until he can feel Stefon’s thighs shaking. 

“You’re being so good, baby,” Seth says as he removes his fingers and unbuckles his belt. The sound of it so loud, so purposeful, Stefon moans and presses back looking for friction. “So, so good for me.”

Stefon lets out a loud, deep moan as Seth pushes inside with one steady thrust, until Stefon’s ass is pressed against his groin. Seth doesn’t have a _“monster dick”_ by any stretch of the imagination, but he’s above average certainly, and thick, and Stefon falls apart around him every single time. Like Seth’s cock is the best thing in the whole wide world. 

With one hand in Stefon’s hair and the other gripping the skirt bunched around his waist, Seth starts to move. Rough, fast thrusts that knock Stefon’s thighs hard against the edge of the desk. He’s usually chatty during sex, but for a while the only sounds Stefon can make are low grunts and long, broken moans that echo around the dark and empty studio. 

He’s so tight and wet with slick, and this is so ripped directly out of Seth’s fantasies, that he knows he’s not going to last long. So he takes him by his elbows and half stands him up, forcing his back to arch beautifully, then hooks Stefon’s arms around his forearm so he can use his free hand to reach between his legs and stroke his cock. 

“You don’t need to, you don’t have to,” Stefon babbles, but he doesn’t do much else to stop him. He just shakes and stays boneless, his breath coming in quick little pants between each word. He says, “You’re such a nerd, such a - a - I wish every night was - ah, _oh, my God -_ elections!”

He clenches around Seth’s thrusts, rocking back against him and rolling his hips as he comes across the desk. Thick white ropes of it, right where Seth has interviewed celebrities and authors and pundits and someone who’s now the President of the United States. He keeps going, bending Stefon backwards, fucking him through his orgasm as he chases his own. 

It’s only a few more thrusts before Seth let’s go of him, bracing both his hands on Stefon’s back, holding him down against desk, and comes. Stefon bears against him, keeping Seth’s cock buried inside him as he fills him up, happy and satisfied and, yes, absolutely debauched. 

It takes a minute before Seth stops shaking enough to collect himself, and he pulls out with a grunt. Before he can get a good look at the mess between his legs, Stefon pulls up his tights as he stands, intending on keeping it all to himself. He can be such a _tease,_ when he feels like it. 

He turns, keeping his head down as he tucks Seth back into his slacks, buckles his belt, and rebuttons his shirt. When he finally looks up, after he straightens up his own outfit, his eye makeup has run and his lips are red and swollen with teeth marks, and he’s got come on his sweater. He is, as always, the most beautiful man Seth has ever seen. He leans in to kiss him, a sweet, closed-mouthed press of lips that lingers until they both begin to laugh. 

“ _That’s_ a live show,” Stefon says. “I know fifteen clubs that would headline us _tonight._ Call your Lorne. Call CNN. I have to call Shy and draft a will, oh my God, I’m going to _die.”_

Seth rolls his eyes fondly and steals another kiss. “Finally an idea to bump us ahead of Colbert. I’m totally in.” 

  
  
  



End file.
